Best Kept Secret?

It was another cold night. Gene, Art, and I were in my house studying for next day’s exam. Oh how I hate accounting.

I decided to pump up the atmosphere by playing some music in my iTunes.

Even after munching some biscuits and drinking some tea, there still isn’t anything going in my head. But then, “The Best Kept Secret” played in my iTunes. Oh dear, but I’m pretty sure none of my friends know what this song’s about.

“I love that song.”

I froze. I looked at Art. He looked at me. Huh? I mean, having knowledge in this song means something.

“What’s that song?” Gene asked.

“Best Kept Secret,” I replied.

“Oh I don’t know that song,” she said. Thank heavens. But Art? I’ve been sensing something’s off ever since the day I first met him, but he just keeps on blabbing about girls and their hot curves, so I dismissed the fact that he’s like me. Or maybe I am such an assuming person that every person who listens to Bare songs is gay. Fine then, I’ll take the latter reasoning. Let’s just leave it at that.

But then again, fate kept on fooling around with me. “Role of a Lifetime” suddenly played. I am pretty sure that it was on shuffle mode.

Then I saw it. Art glanced at me again… I saw it from my peripheral vision. He didn’t say a word, nor did I. We just let Peter’s voice resonate in my room.

As things couldn’t get any worse, “Bare” played after a few more songs. I checked my iTunes discreetly. It was in shuffle mode alright.... in the Recently Added playlist. Oh boy.

I can’t take his piercing glances anymore. It’s either I am already bare in front of Art or he’s afraid that I am thinking the same thing about him. So, what is it?!

Should I say something? Should I text him about my ridiculous song choices?

“Hey guys, how do we solve problem #2?” our other friend said suddenly.

Thank God, you are a saviour. I need not say anything. I don’t want to risk this. Maybe Art’s a West End fan. Oh wait, There isn’t a theatre in London that plays Bare. It’s on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean… Broadway.

“Josh? We have to go… it’s already 10…” said Gene. Seemed I was dozing off for a while.

I ushered them at the bus stop nearest to my place, then gave clear instructions on how to get back to central London from Catford.

“Just text me if you guys are lost ok?” I said, as they stepped on to the Bus 47 service to Shoreditch.

Walking back to my place, I kept on thinking about what happened earlier.

Knowing that my gaydar sucks big time, I have to ask myself… Is Art really one of us?